Judge — February 1938 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SPEAKING of PICTURES Tuis is THE FOREST PRIMEVAL ALL FURRINERS ARE CRAZY 'HE easy camaraderie of the smok- ing car had brought them into con- versation. They had their feet hoisted up comfortably on the black leather seat opposite them, and were passing deep judgment on the news, in the way that strangers will. The large man with the florid face was studying the foreign dis- patches. “Well, 1 see where the Japanese have just taken Ching Ting,” he said. “Ching Ting!" echoed the small man with the long, narrow face. “Gosh, what a name! Ching Ting!” The small man was vastly amused. He laughed through a puff of cigar smoke at the funny ways of the heathen Chinee, who would give a town a ridiculous name like Ching Ting. The large man, who enjoyed getting laughs, went on to give him further entertainment. “Oh, they got some hot ones over there, all right,” he chuckled, “It says here that after taking Sui and Chang Yang, they took Lolo-Chow and ad- vanced on Chefoo-Lo. The story comes via Hsingking. Say, doesn't that give you that Hsingking feeling?” The small man slapped his legs and laughed some more. He was a most ap- preciative audience. “Why,” the large man went on, en- couraged by this added success, “Here's a place near Peiping called Kuku Khoto. Get a load o’ that! Kuku Khoto!” His small companion was fairly be- side himself by now, so great was his merriment at this latest corker. 18 “For that matter,” continued the large man, running wild now,” the Chinks ain't got any monopoly on the dizzy names. . . . Not by a long shot!” He scanned his paper with the zeal of a forty-niner. “Look, f'rinstance, here’s a Japanese schooner from Ishimomaki wrecked in the straits of Shimonoseki. Try that on your zither!” “Ishimomaki!” The small man cackled and tried it again. “Ishimomaki! heh- heh! What won't them Japs think of next?” “And lemme tell you about one they got up in Siberia. I guess they must spend them long winters just thinking up dumb names like this one,” ex- claimed the large man eagerly as he found a humdinger, “Listen, it says ‘Russian troops massing at Blagovye-” shekschensk and Yekaterinosklava’.”” The small man whistled in amaze. ment and shook his head. “Whew! I wouldn't even want to try that one!” he declared. “Gosh, you wonder who thought ‘em up, don't you?” All at once he was mirthful again as memory stirred within him. ‘That reminds me! I noticed once on a map of Asia Minor up at the Baptist Church where there is a burg over there some- wheres called ‘Magnesia’.” “Magnesia?” It was the large man's turn to arch his eyebrows at the ludi- crous antics of the foreigners. ‘‘Cripes! What a place that would be to hail from! ‘Specially if your family name was Milk!" The small man nearly split at the sug- gestion. “"Yeah—The Milks of Magnesia!” They had a long, hearty laugh over this. Then the large man noticed an item about those Russian explorers coming back to Archangel. “Boy, that must be a heavenly place,” he remarked. The small man went into gales of uncon. trolled laughter. Tt was only natural that the large man should begin to wonder about his com. panion and decide that he would like to know more about him. He liked the fellow’s keen sense of humor. “By the way,” he asked, “‘where did you say you were from?” The small man had not said, but he was glad to do so. He favored the idea of further conversation with the large man, who seemed quite jolly and full of fun—grand sense of humor. “Why,” he revealed, “I'm from Osa- watomie, Kansas.” “Osawatomie?” echoed the large man. He seemed delighted. “Why I've been through there! Great little place! I'm from Kalamazoo, myself.” “Kalamazoo? Say, I know some peo- ple there! The Martins—Pete Martin. Know him? Used to live in Oskaloosa, not far from Osawatomie.” The large man knew ol’ Pete, all right, and what with one thing and an- other they were talking nineteen to the dozen by the time the train pulled into Woonsocket, South Dakota. —Scorr Corsetr. The Judge comicbooks.com